


Poor Major Johns

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When a certain American Major by the name of Johns commandeers Garrison's Gorillas while Garrison is off on a solo mission, Garrison is NOT pleased, on any number of levels.  However, he did derive more than a little amusement from the whole affair after it was over.  Enough he shrugged and laughed and accepted the eventual naming of their first daughter, his, Goniff's, Meghada's daughter, 'Marya Couran'.  "After all, Craig, what better role models could she 'ave than two of the tricksiest women we know?"War years





	Poor Major Johns

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time before 'Showdown at Kilmeade Manor'.

**Home Again:  
"You look tired," the low voice coming from the open space that joined the kitchen and the sitting room. 

Garrison glanced up from his slumped position in one of the big chairs, realizing he really must be tired, since he hadn't even known anyone else was in the cottage. It had been dark when he'd pulled up outside, sat in the jeep for a few minutes trying to gather himself to make his way inside. He was pretty sure she hadn't been inside when he'd come through the door, but he was going on auto-pilot by then, only looking for a safe place to collapse, so he couldn't have sworn to that. That didn't say a lot on his behalf, he ruefully admitted to himself, considering his life frequently depended on being alert and vigilant.

"Yes, well, it was a very long trip." They both knew he didn't mean the one down from London. Amsterdam couldn't have been easy, she knew; he'd been gone over four weeks, most of that pulling off a truly masterful piece of intelligence work, or at least that's what Kevin Richards had been willing to share with her before HE'D left. No details, of course, just that bare statement.

She only nodded, went back into the kitchen to pour him a drink. "Have you eaten, Craig? Real food, I mean, not something from the Commissary?" That got her only a weary shake of the head from the young man, that head currently back to being held in his cupped hands, elbows and forearms resting on his thighs. 

"Alright then, we'll take care of that first," bringing him the glass of whiskey, taking the time to gently stroke her hand over his gold-blond hair, getting a tired smile of gratitude in return, then headed back to start putting something together for him. He noted she was still moving slowly, awkwardly, though at least she wasn't still using the cane she'd been forced to use after that disaster of a mission in Italy, like she'd been using when he'd left on this last job. 

Realizing he had been sitting there, just watching her, not saying a word, he finally offered an explanation. "Sorry for just showing up. I got to the gates and they're chained off, no one in sight, except a Corporal I've never seen before. He wouldn't even come close enough for me to identify myself, to order him to clear the way, and I was just too damned tired to argue about it."

She slide the grilled cheese sandwich in front of him. "Shush, you're always welcome here; you know that. Eat, Craig." Her smile was trying to be reassuring, but only made him wonder why she thought he needed to be reassured.

He raised his weary green eyes to hers, and he knew, just knew, something was wrong. "Meghada? You said 'first', 'we''ll take care of that first'; what's the rest of it, what else needs to be taken care of? The guys? Are they in some kind of trouble?" That wouldn't be too surprising, but he really hoped not; he wasn't sure he could deal right now.

"Eat, I'll explain," and as she talked, told him of the team being gathered up and sent on a mission under someone else's command, his weariness turned into frustration and anger. 

"And I understand the Mansion is on lockdown, Craig, literally, entrance chained and not to be opened to anyone. Gil's fuming, since the guards have orders not to let anyone in or out til either you're back or another officer from HQ comes to take over. Oh, they take his basic orders, but not any that countermands THAT order. There's a small contingent of new guards; your regular people are restricted to their barracks, if you can believe that!"

"Richards?? Surely not!" he started, thinking that sounded more than a little off, only to get a solemn shake of her head.

"No, not Kevin, of course. He has far too much sense to pull such a foolish stunt. He's off on one of those hush-hush jobs with Ciena, left about two weeks after you did. No, someone else commandeered the guys. Remember Major Johns, US military, prissy, rather a skittish sort?" she asked with an exceedingly dry tone of voice, knowing Garrison would certainly remember that individual.

"And HE'S got the guys? On a JOB? He's not even a field officer, and he's not made it a secret how he feels about them! Hell, he acts like he's afraid they'll give him fleas, or that just being around them's going to give him a sudden urge to pull a heist or something! Why? Where? Doing what??"

"Funny you should mention that, actually; a heist, I mean. They're in Paris," glancing at her watch, "or, should be by now - a bank job, a big one, it would appear - they're after one particular safe deposit box, supposedly, but are to wreak enough havoc in general so that no one knows that one box was targeted especially."

That explanation didn't relieve his anger or his frustration, though it did add a heavy dose of apprehension and anxiety into the mix. He groaned loudly, "Paris - a bank job." 

Now, he knew his guys could get into trouble just about anywhere; they'd proved that on more than one occasion - hell, on more than a dozen or so occasions! But PARIS??? Paris and a bank job. A bank job involving safe deposit boxes and all the interesting, sometimes quite valuable things people tended to keep in such places. Just the sort of things his guys, Goniff in particular, might not be able to resist. Paris, a bank job, and Major 'Stick-Up-His-Ass' Johns?? He tried that groan again, declining to add words, deciding the groan pretty well said it all.

"Gil Rawlins tried to intervene, but obviously he had no authority to overrule Johns. No one was going to listen to me; I'm not even under official Contract anymore, just a job-by-job hire if it's something that I decide I'm willing to get involved in. And I'm still moving far too slow to be able to insert myself into the mix," looking down at her right leg in annoyance at its lack of cooperation. Well, even Dragons took time to heal after taking three bullets! And while she certainly didn't blame him, they both knew Actor was still feeling quite guilty about that incident.

"But there is a ray or two of sunshine in this, Craig." There was a bit of mischief in her face now.

"And that would be?" he asked, somewhat warily, knowing just how oddly her mind could work sometimes. There were times when it was brought to home most sharply that what SHE considered 'a ray of sunshine', HE was more inclined to think of in terms of 'earthquake' or 'tornado', or 'lightning bolt'.

That mischief turned into a full-fledged grin, "I couldn't STOP it, I couldn't JOIN them, but I was able to get the details. AND managed to arrange a little 'addition' to his orders. AND make a call for someone I know to be in Paris who can maybe lend a hand if it comes down hard, or if they just need a little help." 

His eyes narrowed, "Meghada, am I going to need another drink for this?" and she laughed out loud, "oh, I'm quite sure of it, Craig, and me along with you. Sit back, I'll not be a minute."

Fresh drink in hand, he listened. Listened and wondered at how complicated his life had become. He wasn't complaining, mind you; not in the least, considering all the past months had brought to him, but still, there was no doubt he now led a much more complicated existence than before he'd met his team of wild card cons and the young woman sitting across from him.

"So, my sister is riding shotgun, and there's none more tricksy, more sly that my little sister," Meghada had assured him.

"Wait, I thought Ciena was with Richards," puzzled, only to see that knowing smirk that wouldn't have looked out of place on Goniff's face.

"Well, yes, there is that. But in the past year, other than Family, well, and Kevin Richards, of course," and there came that smirk again, one Garrison really wanted to ask about, but decided he had enough to worry about as it was, "no one can really tell Ciena from Coura, they look that much alike even with the age difference. And Coura was well up for the challenge. We, well, a FRIEND did a little fiddling with the files, and now officially Coura, co-opted on the fly, is with Kevin, and Ciena is riding shotgun for Johns. And, no, before you even ask, Major Johns was NOT happy about it, but since Ciena IS under Contract, is an experienced operative, and since the order came from rather high up on the food chain, he swallowed his disapproval without too much nonsense. We've put it in place to tip Kevin and Ciena the wink before they get back, though, so they don't spoil the story. Though Kevin MAY have to offer a rather shaded version of why he'd co-opt someone not under Contract; well, I'm sure he'll come up with something reasonable," she said placidly.

Garrison opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again with a sigh. "We'll get back to that. What about this 'someone in Paris'?" and just KNEW he wasn't going to be happy with her answer, he just knew it, from that evil chuckle and the look of total glee on her face. 

"Remember my cousin Cally, the one who helped us with the Greeks who tried to cause trouble? Have I ever mentioned her Mentor during her Internship? A White Russian, name of Marya? She's Family, smart, genius-level I think, devious, gorgeous, nerves of steel, with a wicked sense of humor, and a voice that sounds like pure sex wrapped in fur. Runs a con equally as well, perhaps even better than Gabrielle Lucien, at least to my way of thinking, especially where men are concerned. To watch her at work is like watching someone play three dimensional chess, and not just one game, but running three at the same time."

"I didn't think any of you Mentored with Family; I thought it was always someone on the outside," Garrison remarked, taking a sip of his whiskey, starting to feel the tension ease away, whether because of the drink, the food or the company, he didn't know for sure.

"Well, she wasn't Family then; first Mentor, then Friend, then Family. She and Cally have a full Bonding, though it took awhile for Cally to 'cut and corner' her. It wasn't easy, since Marya is in the field full time, running her own game. As I hear it, Marya just finished off another of Hitler's generals; that seems to be her 'general' gameplan, if you'll forgive the pun. Says we can't count on HITLER killing them all, so she might as well lend a hand when she sees the chance. So she hasn't taken up her next task, was already in Paris, and is willing to dabble her fingers in our pie should the opportunity present itself. Since Cally was headed out to meet her, we may just have BOTH of them in the wings."

Garrison shook his head, trying to clear it. "So, we have a devious White Russian genius on the outside, and Coura, who is a devious genius in her own right, on the inside?" His groan was starting to become habitual, he was afraid, thinking of that mix with his own wild card cons. 

Then the humor dawned on him. "Major Johns. Major Johns??! Meghada!"

And her snort turned into a full-fledged laugh. "Yes, Major Johns! Poor Major Johns! If he survives, he'll likely never be the same. Of course, from what I've seen of the man, that might not be a bad thing."

Later, after another sandwich and a slice of pie, he stretched out in that big bed, but found he wasn't able to relax. It didn't feel right, he wasn't used to being there, not with Meghada, just the two of them. 

"Sleep, Craig, sleep. You have to sleep. Tomorrow you'll be back at the Mansion, ready to take command again. Just breathe, my friend; nothing is expected of you, just rest." 

No, nothing was expected; indeed, nothing would have been accepted, even if he'd offered. Goniff was the link between them, and HE wasn't here; but still, warmth and caring was there, and she wanted nothing for him but the very best. He knew that, relaxed, and slept. 

Still his last conscious thought ran through his mind, {"Major Johns?? Lord, she's right! If he survives, he'll likely never be the same!!"}

**Enroute To Paris:  
Well, that was certainly true, had probably been true by the time they'd climbed aboard the aircraft. Major Johns already had a headache, one he'd had since waking up, one not helped in the least by the constant bickering between that little Cockney pickpocket and that gangsterish safecracker of Garrison's. The Indian, brooding, playing with that knife made him more than a little nervous. And while normally the tall Italian's soothing and erudite flow of speech would have been tolerable, now all it was doing was making him feel woefully inadequate and undereducated. Hell, he wasn't familiar with or flat out didn't understand one tenth of what the man was saying about that supposedly world-famous museum just a block over from the bank they were targeting. That didn't help his overall feeling that this whole thing had been a grave error in judgement on his part, remembering that briefing at the Mansion.

**The Briefing:  
The briefing had been, well, odd, especially to a group of men used to Garrison's meticulously laid-out plans, his very firm ideas of how things should go. It was immediately obvious that, other than the ultimate goal and the entry and exit arrangements, Johns didn't have a clue, was taken aback when their questions and the expectant looks on their faces revealed that HE was supposed to be the one with the plan, the plan and all the details. Yeah, so maybe they leaned a little heavily on that impression, maybe a little more than was truth, but they weren't too impressed with Major Johns. No, make that, not impressed one damned bit, with the American military officer.

Before long the tall Italian had taken control of the meeting, something Johns found annoying on one level, but of considerable relief on another. 

Somehow, reading all those reports from the teams made it all seem so much EASIER, the pieces, the movements, so much more obvious and seamless than when you were actually involved in it. He hadn't expected that at all. Well, it seems he'd gotten things backwards from the start, when he'd expected to give them the target and have them come up with the plan, him just keeping them on target and in line. 

He'd actually pictured the process that way, in the beginning, almost like letting a bunch of trained hunting dogs get a good sniff at the lure, then letting them loose to do their job, the hunter just there to control the dogs via a long, very stout leash, along with a whip, of course, in the form of a serious threat of a speedy return to their jail cells. 

Well, how could he have known that it was Garrison who made the plans, ironing out the details, though with them adding specific information in the areas of their own expertise??! He wondered if it was that way with the other teams as well? Perhaps he should have spoken with one or two of them before embarking on this course of action.

Actor explained yet another part of the hastily drawn together plan, exhibiting a patronizing patience that was almost insulting, "Major, each of US know how to open a safe deposit box. We may not use the same methods, but each can get the job done, quickly and efficiently. Can you?"

Johns responded with a stilted, "well, no, of course not. That's hardly something an officer would be involved with."

Actor sighed, "no, I thought not." He thought it best not to mention that Garrison had developed some expertise in that line over the past months. "Then you must see, in order to obtain the result you are looking for, maximum number of boxes opened within the time allotted between passing of the bank guards on their scheduled rounds, all of those capable of working the boxes must do so. Still, we need someone to stand guard, to count down the minutes, to give the alarm if there are any unexpected visitors. By default, that means you. Surely you see that."

Major Johns did, but he wasn't happy about it. He didn't trust this lot as far as he could throw any of them, was sure they'd use the opportunity to snatch something of value and hide it away. Well, he'd deal with that after the job was done. He'd make them turn out their pockets and more. And if anything turned up, well, he'd see they spent the rest of the war in the stockade!

**Enroute To Paris, continued:  
He thought his head was going to explode, it was pounding so hard. Maybe that fourth drink last night, that one a double-Scotch, just to relieve his nervousness, you know, hadn't been such a good idea. He wasn't looking forward to the parachuting, either; he had the training, but somehow he just knew his headache wouldn't be helped by the experience.

He thought about ordering them all to just shut up, but he was uneasily aware that there were four of them, the pilot was occupied with flying the plane, and according to rumor, no one other than Lieutenant Garrison seemed to have total control over the men. Sometimes, there were those, including Major Johns, who wondered if Garrison really did have control, or if that was just an illusion. 

No, he would just put up with their nonsense for now; he had the feeling it might be worse, sitting here in dead silence, except for the noise of the plane, having them watching him, maybe plotting against him in their heads. No, increasingly, he was beginning to doubt that this whole thing had been such a good idea after all. After all, the part about HQ requiring field experience before forwarding any promotion requests, that might have just been a rumor. It might not have come to that. He listened to the talk, the sounds, felt the vibration of the plane, and wondered if he might not have been a little hasty.

And the young woman who'd been foisted on him, much against his wishes? She was pretty much ignoring the other men, and rightfully so, of course, though she didn't seem leary of their presence in the least. No, she sat over there across from him, between the con man and the Indian, calm and relaxed, very much at her ease.

But she WAS paying attention to HIM, much to his discomfort. There was just something disturbing about the way she looked at him, something far too knowing, too measuring. Somehow, whatever, whoever she was measuring him against, he just knew he wasn't making the grade. (Well, no, he wasn't, either against Garrison, or Richards, or Ainsley, or anyone else the young woman could think of in the list of people in the business for whom she had some respect.)

He glanced over again, feeling her eyes on him, feeling that odd flutter in his stomach. It wasn't a particularly good feeling. He recognized that feeling, too; recognized it as one he'd gotten when he'd been on a camping trip with his father as a boy, that feeling of being observed by something unknown, but highly dangerous. There had been those noises in the trees and the underbrush, and little sounds, and strange tracks on the ground, and claw marks on the trees too. His father had identified each of them - bear, mountain lion, wolf. 

Now, meeting her silent gaze, he could see even more in those brown eyes to make him uncomfortable, eyes that looked, what? HUNGRY?? No, that was ridiculous!!!

{"Wolf. That's what her eyes remind me of, that wolf we saw that day."}. He shivered just a little, and in return, she smiled at him, a slow, predatory smile, as if glimpsing weak prey, just waiting for her to spring.

"So, Major, do you do a great deal of this on-the-ground work, behind enemy lines?" she'd asked, and while there wasn't anything out of the way in her face, in the tone of her voice, he felt just a little challenged. 

"Not a great deal, no. However, I do like to keep my hand in," he answered rather stiffly. Hopefully she wouldn't ask for particulars, since that 'keeping his hand in' amounted to one almost-accidental pickup in Barcelona when he had just happened to be in the area and had been co-opted, spur of the moment, by their man on the ground to act as courier. Other than that, he spent his time on rather more sedentary activities well behind his own lines.

Her nod of understanding was surprisingly daunting, as was her knowing smile. "Ah, I see. Well, it's always nice to know we have someone with some experience leading us," and Johns made a point of pretending not to hear those little sounds from the men.

When she drew a long knife of her own, (from where, he didn't have a clue; he hadn't seen it on her before), and started stroking it against her jaw line, slowly, thoughtfully, still wearing that smile, though thankfully no longer looking at him, he remembered he hadn't made that last pit stop before getting aboard, and wished mightily that he had.

He was seated where he couldn't see that exaggerated roll of the eyes the little Englishman gave at the show; wouldn't have realized it was because Johns had suddenly turned a shade of pale equal to if not surpassing the one the Englishman himself usually wore. 

{"Coo, she's gonna 'ave 'im pissing 'imself, she's not careful. Course, don't think it'd take much, ruddy desk officer that 'e is! Gonna take some doing, getting the job done, getting all a us back in one piece, with 'IM trying to run the show!"}.

Goniff and the others wouldn't have minded a mission of this sort, such a lovely target, such a fine opportunity to do a little shopping, adding to their stash, not if it had been Garrison leading them; they'd learned how to work around the Warden and his inexplicable strain of morality, his sense of honor, his obsession with achieving his goals, and his ability to get bloodied walking across the street. They knew what to expect with him.

This, with Major Johns? A totally different thing. They'd learned that beyond any shadow of a doubt during what was supposed to be a mission briefing. {"Briefing! Only thing we learned was 'e aint got a ruddy notion of 'ow to go about this, get the job done and get us out alive!"}

**Paris, The Safehouse:  
"Paris, ah, Paris," Actor enthused, in that superior tone of his. "Of course, quite different than it once was, that is true. But still, there is just something special about Paris, don't you agree, Major?" 

Johns cleared his throat, "certainly, though I've always thought New York had as much to offer in its own way." He'd been to New York a time or two, never to Paris, but he didn't feel it quite loyal for an American to be praising a foreign city over one in his own country.

Casino chimed in enthusiastically, "yeah, New York's something else! Hell, there's this little Italian restaurant in the Bronx, Avenelli's, makes a linguine with clam sauce almost as good as my mom's!" 

Chief didn't bother to join the impromptu conversation, just stood at the upstairs window of that two-story house, staring out into space, still stroking that knife, the sight of which Johns was starting to dread. 

The other two? They were downstairs keeping the first watch. Well, at least he didn't have to listen to the Cockney chiming in, or feel those cold brown eyes of the young woman watching him like he was a quail she had marked for her next meal. 

He'd not worked with her before, though he'd had some uncomfortable contact with her older sister who'd worked with Major Richards. He suppressed another shudder, thinking of the Ice Queen, the Dragon. 

This one was supposedly a couple years younger than THAT bitch; he'd somehow translated that into 'less dangerous', though he'd changed his mind about that before that flight was half over. Something about that little argument between Goniff and Casino, about what was more likely to win a man's attention, win his heart, some of that couched in quite vulgar terms, to Major Johns' way of thinking, especially with a young woman present. 

Goniff had argued for a woman who could take care of his appetite, one having a sure hand in the kitchen, adding in "along with elsewhere, acourse!" all the while with a lascivious smirk on his face; Casino, on the other hand, didn't bring food into it, simply outlining his physical requirements without hesitation. "Long blonde hair, big boobs, legs from here to there - that'll get me every time."

"Boys, boys," Ciena had chided them in a husky voice, opening her eyes but remaining in that relaxed position, her arms crossed over her chest. It appeared she'd been napping, or at least trying to. "You're both wrong. The fastest and easiest way to a man's heart? Six inches of sharp steel, angled upwards through the ribs. As you might just find out if you don't pipe down and let me take a fast doze before we have to jump out of this flying tin can! You KNOW how testy I get!" 

To Johns' amazement, they'd all laughed, but he noted that the team took pains to keep everything quiet while the young woman apparently took a twenty minute nap. Yes, he was quite relieved when she'd volunteered to take first watch with the Cockney.

"Ei, 'ow did you get tagged for this?" Goniff asked in a very low voice, making sure it didn't travel any further than the redhead standing to one side of that window keeping watch. 

She chuckled, her voice equally low, "Meghada was worried, knowing Johns as she does, and since she couldn't come herself, she was open to volunteers." 

He narrowed his eyes, looking over at her. "Yer not Ciena, are you?" watching the appreciative grin fill her face.

"Always knew you for a canny one, Goniff. No, but don't worry about that. Best you keep calling me that. No need to confuse the good Major; it seems it wouldn't take much to do that little trick."

Goniff snorted, "w'at the 'ell we're doing 'ere with a ruddy amateur like 'im, I'll never know! Could understand them sending us out with Ainsley, maybe Richards; but 'IM?"

"Seems there's a push to get the desk officers a little more field experience; their next promotion might depend on it. Of course, it doesn't occur to anyone to actually TRAIN them for a field experience, other than a few lectures and such, or let them just do a ride-along with one of the teams and the team leader. Well, at least he knew enough not to foul his lines when he dove out of the plane. Wouldn't like to explain us losing him; might get us an unfriendly welcome when we get back. And THAT means, we need to keep him from getting himself killed anywhere along the way. You'll need to pass the word to the others." 

Goniff rolled his eyes at that, complaining, "likely 'ave enough to 'andle, getting the job done, getting ourselves out alive, without 'aving to babysit 'IM."

"Yes, but we don't really have any choice, do we? Oh, and I've a little errand to run. Hopefully I'll be back before anyone comes down, but if not, best say I've gone to scope out some supplies, okay?"

He started to protest, but she was already gone. Rolling his eyes once again in frustration, he moved to where he could observe the two exposed sides of the house, hoping no one DID come down before she got back. {"Gonna be more than just Major Johns pissed at that!"}. Of course, there was the chance she'd bring back something to eat, maybe a bottle of French wine; he could use a good snack right about now.

**A Small Hotel:  
Coura chuckled, "Marya, you look absolutely gorgeous!" getting a slight shrug and a warm smile from the elegant and lush woman poised in the velvet armchair. 

"I do try, darling girl. And you, ah, YOU look like you are up to mischief. This is true, no? Mischief that you want Marya's help in making, perhaps?"

Coura nodded in agreement, "yes, I think I just might need your help. I have a man I need to befuddle, and from what I've heard, there's no one better at that than you."

A snort from the doorway showed another young woman, enough like Coura to be her older sister, indeed was her older cousin. "I can vouch for the truth of that, cousin! I watch her do it, can see HOW she does it, but still can't explain it, certainly can't duplicate it and get the same results."

"You do well enough, my Cally," Marya protested, but then gave a little shrug. "Not so well as me, certainly, but I have had more years, perhaps more reason, to practice." There was a touch of sadness, perhaps wry regret in her voice, in her face, but a quick kiss from Cally, who'd come to perch on the arm of her chair, had her smiling again.

"So, this man, tell me of him, what you require of me," Marya ordered, and Coura explained about the bank job, about Major Johns. 

"An ambitious plan, to be sure. Now, what about the last part, what you have not yet told me, the part where I can be of help, perhaps to our mutual benefit?" and Coura and Cally laughed, knowing the White Russian was far too canny not to have spotted that little 'added attraction', the one that had the potential for making this a highly profitable operation for everyone involved.

"Ah, yes. Well, this is what I had in mind," and laid it all out in the open, ending with "and certainly he's going to be highly suspicious of the guys, possibly of me as well. As closely as we have it timed, though, there won't be time for him to do a search, even time for him to have them empty their pockets, not til we get back to the safe house. And if a few little items somehow make their way into other hands before we get there, who's to say we ever touched them? The Major's idea of just dumping things in a huge pile, all commingled, so no one will have an easy time of figuring out what came from which box? Maybe a little fire off in the corner for anything of paper? Well enough, I suppose, since the bank won't have a list of the contents of the various boxes, of course. And somehow I rather doubt they're going to be in any great hurry to return any of it anyway, may never do so. I mean, how lovely for them! Such a benefit to their own pocketbooks. 'Ah, such a dreadful thing! A bank robbery, even to the private boxes! Everything gone, just everything! Quelle tragedie!' Wouldn't be surprised if a few, if not many, of the boxes we didn't even touch don't get involved!"

"And these other hands, the ones receiving the odd treasure, they would be ours?"

Coura grinned, "well, it seems quite likely, doesn't it? And that lovely fur coat probably has lovely deep pockets, Marya!" glancing over to the sofa where that lush creation had been so casually thrown, the three sharing a conspiratorial laugh. "And I have just one teeny other reason for involving you, for it to be somewhat more than just a quick hand-off as we pass on the street." 

She explained, and got a warm gurgle of amusement from the White Russian. 

"You are really quite wicked, are you not, little cousin? But you have not said, the 'arrangements'? What are they to be?" Marya asked. 

"Cally will take the goods to Switzerland for exchange into something a little more liquid, a little less recognizable. We have contacts there. Then, a third to you and Cally for yourselves, the rest for the Clan and the team. Cally can take custody of the last, the Council will see that it gets distributed in a suitably round-about manner. Major Johns, poor Major Johns, unfortunately HE must remain content with just the sweet memory of your voice and your smile, the wistful thoughts of Paris and what might have been." She sighed dramatically. All three women snorted - genteely, of course.

Marya nodded in agreement, "is fair. Now, you must leave, yes, and return to the others?"

Remembering to stop and pick up a basket of bread and cheese, a few other tidbits, not that there was much available, along with a bottle of wine, she made her way back to the safehouse just in time to brief a highly amused Goniff, who was now looking forward to the job with some eager anticipation. By the story alone, the enjoyment she took in the telling, that little smirk so like his own, he knew who she just HAD to be, although he had no intentions of letting her name cross his lips til they were safely back home. Well, they'd spent a good part of a summer together, hadn't they, her and her twin brother and the guys? Lord, they'd followed him around like a pair of ducklings after their mum during that time!

Turning to see Actor and Casino come down the stairs, she raised one triumphant brow, held up the basket. "Anyone ready for a bite to eat?" 

And if Major Johns had seemed quite put-out at her solo excursion, she was charitable enough not to snap at him. After all, she was well pleased with what she had accomplished and could afford to humor him.

**The Bank:  
"Blimey! Look at this! Now that's quality!" Goniff said admiringly, holding aloft the long triple strand of pearls he'd pulled from that last box.

"Goniff, just toss it on the pile and keep going! Don't stop to critique the merchandise," Actor chided him. 

Johns had been keeping one eye on them, one eye on the corridor. He heartily agreed with that sentiment, knowing the seconds were ticking away.

It was proving challenging, far more than any of them had anticipated, finding that folded sheaf of papers. 1138AW, that's where it should have been. That is, if a 1138AW had BEEN on any of the boxes, which it wasn't. There was an AN section, but no AW, none at all. It had been the girl who had suggested the most likely misinterpretation - 1138AN, and when that had turned up only some photographs and a tarnished wedding ring, she'd gone on to suggest 1133AN, 1188AN, 1183AN, and if none of those, 1738AN, 7738AN, and so on for another dozen or so possibles. "Though if it's not just a simple transposition, but something more complicated, Major, it would only be blind luck if we would find it!"

He knew that to be true, and in desperation, agreed they should focus on those possibililties. He'd suggested they work ONLY those, but Actor had reminded him that it was almost just as important to avoid anyone knowing they had come looking for those particular papers as it was to find them. So, reluctantly, Johns had watched as the team split up even more, Casino and Chief and Actor searching those special combinations, while Goniff and the girl opened boxes at random around the room and tossed their contents into a pile, sliding the boxes silently back into place.

Finally, a grunt from Casino, "got it! That's what yer looking for, right, Major?" Johns eagerly took the packet, glanced at it, and sighed with relief, "Yes!" turning his attention fully to the papers.

"Call time, Major," Actor sternly reminded him, and guiltily Johns looked at his watch. "Four minutes."

"Alright, everyone take one more box, dump it, then let's wrap it up," Actor ordered. 

Johns pressed on the one point he'd repeated to them countless times. "And be sure you leave everything behind; if I find even a tie pin on any of you . . ." getting a fast impatient, "yes, Major, you have made that quite clear. Now, if you don't mind, we need to get out of here! We have just barely enough time to avoid being spotted by the guards!"

**An Accidental Encounter:  
The exit went like clockwork, and they were on the sidewalk outside, them keeping a few feet apart from each other to avoid drawing attention. Well, it went like clockwork til they rounded a corner and Johns bumped headlong into an auburn-haired beauty in a lush fur coat and matching hat. 

Clutching at that fur hat, the one that had almost toppled at the impact, she chided him, "Darling! Please! You must be more careful! You almost . . . ". The exotic-looking woman with the intriguing accent stopped, looked at the flushed and apologetic Major Johns more closely, and smiled a sultry smile that brought a sweat to the man's face. "Perhaps you might buy me a drink, darling. You could continue your apology, and we could get to know each other better, yes?"

Somehow, he wasn't quite sure how, her arm was linked into his, and they were headed toward a small outdoor cafe across the way, the rest of the team following along behind. A quick look back had Johns registering the barely-concealed annoyance on their faces; well, to be honest, he couldn't blame them, after all his preaching about keeping on schedule, keeping their minds on the job. 

Still, there he was, now sitting next to her at a small outside table, sipping a drink while that gorgeous woman made over him, brushing up against him; the smell of her perfume was even more intoxicating than the schnapps in his glass, made him think of things he knew he had no business thinking of, not here certainly. Maybe that con man was right; maybe there just WAS something special about Paris!

Then, she was rising, languidly, "well, darling, this has been terribly amusing, but I really cannot stay, no matter how I would like to. Perhaps we will meet again," leaning in to brush her soft pouting lips across his, then headed off down the sidewalk, him now on his feet gaping after her. She headed toward the end of the cafe, brushed close by the tables on the far side where the young redhead had been sitting with Goniff and Chief at one table, Actor and Casino at the other. 

Seeing Johns now on his feet, no longer drooling at HER feet, they all arose, dropped some money on the tables, politely bowed or nodded their heads as the regal vision wove easily through their midst. Then the tall Italian casually but quickly moved over to join him. 

Actor's voice was low, but rather crisp, "do you think we might continue, Major Johns, or is there some other 'socializing' you think more important than making our exit on time?" He'd flushed again, but had turned without a word as they all headed back to the safehouse.

Back at the safehouse, he had regained his sense of authority, had them turn out their pockets. When nothing was found, he made them strip down to their briefs, with him going over their dropped clothes with his hands. Their comments had been pithy, to say the least, even if mostly under their breath. If he'd thought about going any further with his search, the look in their eyes was enough to dissuade him. 

The young woman, Coura, had sat in a chair and watched with a cool absence of expression, although her lips had twitched a time or two, and she'd developed an appreciative sheen in her eyes. 

When Major Johns turned to her, opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it. "Really? It's my turn now? Oh, very well, but could I at least have music if I'm to strip? It just doesn't feel RIGHT without music, you know! I've not done it before, of course, but I'm told that's the proper way of it." 

Johns flushed, "well, perhaps you could just give me your word that you didn't take anything . . ."

"Oh, no, Major. Actor and the other men started to offer you that, and you refused, most emphatically. In fact, you were really very rude about it. No, we'll do it this way, YOUR way, just so the report shows we were all treated equally," and she proceeded to remove her clothes, item by item. She was more than a little pleased at the red face on the Major, letting her slow and graceful movements give them just a hint of the music she was hearing in her head. Finally when she was down to that black silk camisole that reached just to the top of her high-cut black silk underpants, she trailed her fingers from the low v-neck, down between her breasts and over her stomach. She heard Johns' gulp all the way from across the room. 

"Well, Major, shall I continue? Shall we see if I've hidden a necklace, or a broach, maybe a pair of earings under this?" There was no way ANYTHING could have been hidden under what she was now wearing, not without a revealing lump, and they were all quite aware of that.

"No, of course not! I'm quite satisfied," he mumbled.

Getting a highly arch look on her face, she told him, "I should think so. There's not many who've been given this close a look, you know. I'm not sure my sister, the Dragon, indeed ANY in my family will be so pleased at it happening now. It will make quite an interesting paragraph in your report, will it not? It certainly will in mine." 

She listened with some inner amusement as he blustered, tried to remind her he'd offered her an alternative, and only gave him a very odd, even serene smile, "I could hardly be so unfair to the others, my team mates, if only temporarily, with them not being given the same opportunity. Of course, perhaps it wasn't generosity, Major, the trying to be a gentleman about it; perhaps it was just that you hadn't as great an interest in seeing ME without my clothing, as you did them?" and the indignant gobbling was delightful, quite reminiscent of her oldest sister's turkeys at Haven. While the guys wouldn't, couldn't laugh now, they certainly would later.

**A Small Hotel:  
In a hotel room not far away, Marya pulled the various items out of those deep coat pockets. "Umm, very nice, yes?"

"Oh, very nice indeed. Goniff and Coura each have an excellent eye. So, do we take our third in kind, or cash in the whole lot? Does anything catch YOUR eye, Marya? That broach would go very well with your eyes."

"I do not believe so; besides, where would I wear it where the previous owner might not catch a glimpse and have it cause difficulties? No, you take it to Switzerland, my Cally, all of it; you know where to go, yes?" letting her eyes linger on the very nice assortment of small but quite valuable pieces in front of them on the table. {"They will never know what she gets for this. If it were anyone else, perhaps . . ."}. She shook her head, firmly, putting that thought behind her. 

Cally grinned, knowing exactly what had passed through Marya's mind, "yes, I know. But it IS Coura, and we don't play such tricks within the Family."

Marya smiled, liking it more every time she heard that word, 'Family', knowing she was considered part of it now, especially with her knowing they, Clan O'Donnell, might be the only family she would have left by the time the war was over. 

She'd been hearing some very disturbing things from Russia, some sense that her position would not be secure once her value to the government there was lessened by the end of hostilities. Some hint that the new duties they had in mind for her were even more distasteful than the ones they'd asked previously. That might mean having to say farewell to her blood family once and for all, for everyone's wellbeing. Well, she and her blood family weren't all that close either; they had power she never had nor wanted, she had power they never understood nor respected. Still, there was a sadness at the thought of severing those ties. 

But, she had plans of her own now, plans she'd never thought she would see fulfilled. Perhaps, just perhaps, she, her beloved Cally, maybe even her sweet small one, LeBeau, would have a chance for a future together.

**Home Again:  
"Did you tell them?" Meghada asked, looking around the Common Room table, at the men gathered there, taking her own seat as she did so.

Goniff smirked, "thought I'd wait, let you give them the good news. I take it we did alright?"

She reached into her totebag, took out four fat envelopes, handed them around. "I divided it out equally, after giving Coura her share."

They cautiously opened their envelopes, eyes widening at the total of the funds inside. Chief was the first to catch on, caught himself before he actually broke out into a rare laugh. "Paris???"

"Aye, Paris," and proceeded to tell them the whole story. Hearing voices in the big front room below, she gathered her things to leave. "Dinner tomorrow? I'll try to do something particularly nice," and got their quick agreement. She and Goniff exchanged a look, a smile and a knowing nod, seeming not to need words for whatever was being communicated. Well, the guys were getting used to that.

She was headed out when Actor stopped her, "Meghada, thank you, for everything. And next time, if there is a next time, just so you are aware, there should be FIVE envelopes. We'll divide out his portion from these for now."

She raised a brow at that. "Craig?" she asked in more than a little surprise.

"Yes, though he is totally unaware of it, of course. Still, someday, after the war, he might find himself to be in need of a 'stash' of his own." 

She nodded, "aye, he just might, though whether he will let his stubborn self accept it, that's something else. Five envelopes it is."

She stuck her head into the office to give a quick greeting and confident, cheery invitation to Garrison. "Dinner, tomorrow night, if you can, Craig. I've already invited the guys." Her next words were scarcely more than a murmur, "and later tonight, after lights out, if you wish to join us. We'd like you to, the both of us." 

His eager smile and nod said all she needed to know. She'd get the whiskey bottle out, along with the bourbon she preferred, when she got home; maybe make a few scones or pull out some spiced nuts or something else as a nibble. It wouldn't do to satisfy one sort of appetite and leave others still wanting. 

Up at the Mansion, Craig Garrison finished his last translation, closed the notebook and sat it aside. Thinking of the night stretching before him, Craig swallowed deeply, letting out an involuntarily groan, this one quite different than his usual assortment. {"Yes, tonight . . . "}

**London HQ:  
Richards read the reports again, the ones from Major Johns, Actor, and 'Ciena' O'Donnell, shaking his head in absolute frustration. It was his third reading, and he was no closer to understanding what had happened, why it had happened, no closer to understanding, in particular, certain parts of the report from 'Ciena'. Or maybe it was that his mind was trying hard NOT to understand; that happened sometimes where Garrison's crew and the O'Donnell sisters were involved, possibly a self-defense mechanism.

A deepening frown settled over his face, and he called out, "Jeffrey, about this report file on the latest assignment for Garrison's men, the one in Paris, led by Major Johns? Find Major Johns for me, if you would be so kind, see if he could join me. I have a few questions for him concerning his little excursion." 

{"A few questions, and a few comments as well!"} rereading that part about 'Ciena' O'Donnell, the guys and all those clothes laying around, then moving on to the one about the beautiful Russian woman the major had, quite unexplicably, allowed to distract, even lure him during the exit {"Yes, quite a few comments!"} 

While he'd been slipped the word about the switch, Coura for Ciena, and even with him knowing just how off-the-wall anything connected to Coura could get, he hadn't been expecting anything like this. 

He was rereading Major Johns' report, where that little episode was described simply as "I made sure no valuables had left the bank", compared it to the more lengthy one signed 'Ciena' O'Donnell, and had his most pleasant face firmly in place when he got that knock at his door. "Ah, come in, Major. It seems you've had an exciting time on your first time in the field. Come, tell me all about it." 

Jeffrey kept a close ear on the conversation; alright, so he was frankly eavesdropping, but it simply was too good not to. It was rather amazing even, since Major Richards never said a harsh word, never let his voice get even crisp, much less angry. Well, after all, Major Johns didn't report to Richards anyway. Still, Jeffrey had read those reports; that was part of his job. And he'd seen one or two little things that just might push some of his boss's more sensitive buttons.

Now, somehow, in the seemingly congenial questions Richards posed, Jeffrey could just imagine Major Johns shrinking in the chair a little more each time. That last segment, posed in almost an admiring tone, that had been the topper. 

"I must say, I am quite impressed with your dedication to duty, Major! Why, in that safehouse, I mean. That took a great deal of courage, physical AND moral to push the matter to that extreme. I'm certain I would never have considered a strip search. Well, for any of those under my command, and certainly not Garrison's men. As for the young woman, well, that was quite daring. Oh, yes, I understand you were willing to do the gentlemanly thing there, but she is quite adamant about being treated just as any others she'd teamed up with, you know. Quite well known, that fact. Still, they are all rather, umm, 'volatile' individuals, and I certainly would have thought twice, especially with the young woman's family being rather unpredictable in their reactions to things sometimes. And just imagine if someone had walked in on that scene. How very awkward. Yes, most impressive, quite courageous, Major Johns!"

A faint murmur of a voice.

"No, I know it wasn't in your report; you have far too much experience in writing reports to put anything in them that might bring discredit to any of those you are leading, including suspicions that proved to be unfounded, I'm sure. Not everyone HAS the benefit of your experience in such matters, however, so they were a little more . . . Well."

"Oh, by the way, I DO understand you were just trying to avoid attracting attention when that Russian woman approached you, somehow mistaking you for perhaps an old friend, insisting on sharing a drink and a quiet chat. However, just a word to the wise; Paris is a regular hot-bed of agents, double-agents, triple-agents, not to mention the usual exotic lures for the unwary. While I'm sure it was just a case of mistaken identity, still it might be best to be a bit more cautious if you should go there again. Could cause all sorts of misinterpretations, you know."

Jeffrey listened, but from the silence, it seems Major Johns was caught up in thinking over those last few sentences.

"Now, may I ask, what is your next venturing forth? Do you have something specific in mind?"

There was a harsh clearing of a too-tight throat, "well, actually, I've decided my forte really is the job I'm currently doing. While field work is interesting, I think I'll leave that to Garrison and his sort from now on. I think my talents are best used for other things."

"Ah, well, possibly that is for the best. Still, if you change your mind, I know Meghada O'Donnell, the Dragon, still does a free-lance job for us now and again; now that you've worked with Ciena, you might enjoy a close up look at her sister and how SHE carries out an assignment. Occasionally they even work together, you know. Now THAT might be an appropriate venture for you to join in, one with both of them."

The door opened, and Major Johns made his way down the hall. Jeffrey was interested to notice that poor Major Johns could actually be that pale and still be standing.

A button lit up on the telephone, and from behind that closed door, he heard an exceedingly crisp, "Coura! Just what the bloody hell do you think you are doing??! I'm not going grey fast enough for you??! Let me tell you, young woman, I do NOT appreciate . . ."

Jeffrey grinned. It looked to be an interesting day all around.


End file.
